


And so the feeling grows

by lightyears



Series: Christmasy Christmas [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightyears/pseuds/lightyears
Summary: Specifically to Clarke, this Christmas is a sucky time to be in unrequited love with someone, because the person she’s in unrequited love with also happens to be the person she’s eight months pregnant with.And specifically to Clarke, it’s because that person is Bellamy, and today she has to come to terms with the unfortunate reality that she is still stupidly attracted to him when he’s wearing a ridiculous Christmas sweater.Seriously, the combination of Christmas and pregnancy is not a good one.





	And so the feeling grows

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooo, i am somehow posting two fics in one week. Idk how it happened either, don't get used to it.
> 
> Written for the Bellarke Christmas Calendar, and basically just clarke being dumb and bellamy being obviously in love with her, w pregnancy fluff and a touch of feels and smut.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and happy holidays to everyone!!

****

In general, Christmas is a sucky time to be in unrequited love with someone.

Not that unrequited love is ever that great, but the holiday season always makes it sting a little bit more. With the seemingly global sense that the end of the year is also the most _romantic_ time of year, a lot of annoying practices start to take place when the weeks tick over from November to December: extended family and friends start wanting to know if you’re seeing anyone new, every movie on TV begins centring a couple falling in love over the holiday season, and going to any shop ever means having to look through stands of items that would apparently be perfect for a significant other.

Which is annoying, but usually tolerable.

Specifically to Clarke, this Christmas is a sucky time to be in unrequited love with someone, because the person she’s in unrequited love with also happens to be the person she’s eight months pregnant with.

And specifically to Clarke, it’s because that person is Bellamy, and today she has to come to terms with the unfortunate reality that she is still stupidly attracted to him when he’s wearing a ridiculous Christmas sweater.

Seriously, the combination of Christmas and pregnancy is not a good one.

“Are you seriously wearing that?” Clarke asks, after she manages to get her voice working again. She may have been standing by the door for a few long beats, eyes roaming over him, taking in the stupid tight red and white knit he’s got on, the pattern of reindeer and Christmas trees somehow not looking awful on him.

Bellamy looks over his shoulder and grins. He’s in their still mostly bare nursery, tape measure in one hand and a notepad in the other, and the fact that they’re about to go baby furniture shopping probably doesn’t help with how fond of him she is. Not that much does, these days.

“To your mum’s Christmas party? Probably not,” he teases, and Clarke rolls her eyes. “But today, yeah. That was the deal, wasn’t it?” He asks, which is technically true, but Clarke didn’t think he’d actually follow through with what was mostly just his response to her petulant grumblings. “You wear that one and I wear this one?”

She looks down, huffs out a short laugh at her own Christmas sweater. It’s not as ridiculous as Bellamy’s, could probably even be considered _nice_ in different circumstances, but it still feels a little silly when it’s stretched over her very ballooned belly. But Bellamy bought it for her, so she’s wearing it. And apparently he’s wearing his one too.

“Yeah, I guess it was,” Clarke says, looking back up to give him a fond smile. “Anyway, you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, yeah.” He slips the little notepad into his back pocket before walking over to her, a hand unsurprisingly finding her belly as he presses a kiss to Clarke’s forehead. “And how is little Persephone today?”

Clarke laughs, ducking her head with a smile. “ _Bean_ is doing just fine. Woke up early this morning, but didn’t get too active until I was up myself, so that was nice.”

“Very considerate, Persephone,” Bellamy says, giving her belly one last rub as he grins teasingly at her, and seriously, it’s really, _really_ unfair of him to do that to her.

So yeah, Christmas can suck it.

*

She had been sleeping with Bellamy for about a year when she found out she was pregnant, and it happened in what was probably the most clichéd way possible: sitting on the bathroom floor with a positive pregnancy test in her hand, about two weeks after realising she had fallen in love with him.

Which was honestly just really inconvenient timing.

He reacted basically how she expected, shifting from shocked to supportive before Clarke had even finished her rambling confession, and they decided that night that they were going to keep the baby and raise it together, as best friends. Which was a term that felt all too significant to Clarke, when Bellamy said it, and the part of her that had hoped that this might give her the courage to say something quickly died, leaving a bittersweet sense of happiness and excitement as Bellamy placed his hand over her still-flat stomach.

“We’re doing this,” he had said, almost a question, and Clarke had nodded, even managed a sincere smile. He was still her best friend, and that would always be enough.

“Yeah,” she said, placing her hand over his and squeezing. “We’re doing this.”

They saw the baby for the first time a week later, and both of them teared up when their little blob appeared on screen, when they heard the quick beat of its heart.

“You’re eight weeks along,” the ultrasound technician had told them. “Your baby is about the size of a kidney bean.”

And so they started calling their baby Bean.

The following months went by quickly, Bean growing bigger, Clarke getting a proper baby bump, and Bellamy beginning to buy tiny baby clothes and proceeding to send photos of them to her with an array of heart and smile emojis. Baby names started being discussed, and it wasn’t long before he was suggesting ones in the same vein as _Octavia._ Augustus was the easy one to start off with, but in a matter of weeks he’d flown through Hera and Neptune, Vulcan and Demeter, always managing to make Clarke lose herself in a fit of giggles, unable to help herself when he so seriously sung a lullaby to their dear _Hermes_. And when Bean started moving about, kicking and punching, she also grew used to Bellamy’s hovering, how much he loved touching her belly, talking to the baby and playing little games with it, always so loving and _close._

None of which really helped with the fact that she was stupidly in love with him, but not much did; these were all just little things that she was slowly getting used to, that were becoming part of her routine.

He asked her to move in when she was six and a half months along, adorably formal as he went through what appeared to be a rehearsed speech outlining why it was a good idea, and two weeks later they were packing up her stuff and moving it into the room Miller used to reside. The spare room would become a nursery, which, as Bellamy pointed out, would allow him to be there whenever she or Bean needed. And so she grew used to that, too; sharing Bellamy’s space, seeing him sleep-rumpled before work each day and sitting at the kitchen bench to watch him cook each night, going grocery shopping and bickering over food choices and hanging out on the couch to binge watch something on Netflix.

And it all felt so _good,_ living together and getting ready for the baby, Bellamy buying a photo album to put the first ultrasound pictures in and Clarke getting a onesie with _I LOVE MY DAD_ printed on it, placing bets on whether it’d be a history nerd or an art nerd, that Clarke’s heart felt like it was just on a continuous cycle of bursting with excitement and love and fondness.

And now she’s wearing a stupid Christmas sweater that he bought her, while they’re shopping for Bean’s room, and honestly, she will admit that her life is a bit of a mess.

*

“Okay, so, yeah, I think we should get this one.”

Clarke startles, blinking up from where her eyes were fixated on Bellamy’s arms, to find him looking at her expectantly. Apparently she’s missed some of the conversation, but that’s not really surprising. His Christmas sweater is really and truly distracting.

“Hm?” She asks, and he huffs out a small laugh, eyes fond as he looks at her.

“This one,” he prompts, hand moving to the side of her belly to turn her to the crib in question, because he loves any excuse to touch it. It doesn’t really help with her being distracted, but it’s still nice. Unbelievably so.

“Yeah, this is a good one,” Clarke agrees, looking the crib over again. They’d done their research before shopping, and have looked at the various choices carefully in person today, and unsurprisingly, she was leaning towards this one too. “Plus, I liked the matching changing table we saw earlier,” she adds, nodding towards the previous section of the store. “And it goes with the dresser you’ve already got, so — colour co-ordination.”

“The most important aspect of a newborn’s bedroom,” Bellamy teases.

“Shut up,” she says, receiving a bright, happy grin in return, one that makes her melt a little bit.

Which is basically how the whole day has gone so far, just a series of Bellamy-interactions that have been simultaneously the best and the _worst_. His excited enthusiasm mixing with an adorable seriousness about anything baby-related. The fact that he can’t seem to stop touching her, even though they’re in public, always wanting to keep a hand on her belly, always so _close._ How he keeps talking to the baby, asking what its opinion is when they can’t agree on inane things like which _Winnie the Pooh_ wall-art is best, trying to get a reaction to whatever he wants.

It’s honestly a surprise she hasn’t been _more_ distracted, but she has had six or so months to get used to this side of Bellamy. By the time Bean arrives, she’ll probably be a pro.

“Okay, so, this crib, the changing table you liked, and then we just needed a stroller and a car seat, yeah?”

“Just that, yeah,” Clarke says, letting her head drop onto his shoulder and feeling his hand come up to rub at the nape of her neck. They’ve been here for an hour and a half, already, and he knows how quickly she gets tired on her feet these days. “I might need a power nap before we put any of this up today,” she adds, as his nails go to scratch at her scalp softly. “So be prepared for that.”

Bellamy chuckles, and Clarke makes herself stand back up, return his fond smile with a tired one of her own. “I’m prepared,” he assures. “But if you need a pick me up, I did see something earlier that I reckon you’ll like.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I’ll show you,” Bellamy says, and he takes her hand before leading her to the part of the store housing children’s toys and accessories, making her increasingly suspicious. “Now, you gotta close your eyes first. The reveal is as important as the item.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” Bellamy counters, raising his brows until she does as he asks and closes her eyes, but not before she rolls them at him pointedly.

And then he’s gone, pulling his hand from hers as he does something about a foot away, from what she can tell, coming back in less than a minute and shifting her slightly so she’s apparently standing in the right direction.

“Okay, open,” he says, and when she does, he’s holding a little wooden carving of the letter ‘A’ up to her face. A smile grows immediately; after months of this, she knows exactly where it’s going, and Bellamy doesn’t disappoint. His own grin is huge. “Okay, so picture this: crib on the wall opposite the door, and just above it—” He gestures for her to look behind him, and she snorts as soon as she sees what he’s set up. The same little wooden alphabet carvings sitting on a ledge, spelling out _H E P H A E S T U S_. “Hephaestus. Definitely a good name.”

“You’re _ridiculous_ ,” she says again, and Bellamy grins.

“And yet, you _still_ love it,” he throws back, and she shakes her head with a laugh. “And it helped, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did.”

“And now you’re ready to spend another two hours deciding which stroller is best?”

“Of course I am,” she says, biting back a smile as she squeezes Bellamy’s hand in thanks. “Let’s go find ourselves a stroller.”

Thankfully, it isn’t actually two hours. Between deciding on both a stroller and a car seat, it’s another hour at the store before they’ve decided on everything, and they manage to get it all paid for and packed into Bellamy’s car in another twenty minutes. Clarke’s still considering passing out on the drive home, but Raven texts as soon as they’re on the highway, and she’s feeling nice enough to hold out on her nap a little longer.

 **Raven:** How fancy is “smart casual” in your family though  
Like, if I don’t rock up in a gown will I be turned away at the door?  
Srs answers only

 **Clarke:** You don’t have to wear a gown, but that’s on the condition that your outfit contains colours like “mauvulous” and “zesty lemon”  
And is low-key ugly so rich ppl think it’s the new trend  
Think multiple types of fabric

 **Raven:** Damn I knew it

 **Clarke:** But actually, basically what you’d expect  
Probably no jeans and sneakers, but jeans and boots with a nice top will do

 **Raven:** I guess that’s do-able  
What’re you wearing?  
Maybe i’ll just wear the same thing, but like, a hotter version

 **Clarke:** Dick  
I don’t know  
I’ve complained about what I’m wearing to this party so much that Bellamy bought me this sweater yesterday and said I should just rock up in it  
[Img attached]

 **Raven:** What the fkuc  
He bought you a fucking christmas maternity sweater???  
And you’re wearing it??????

 **Clarke:** It’s really comfy  
Shut up  
And besides I made him wear this in return  
[Img attached]

 **Raven:** God you two are disgustingly together  
You’re literally wearing matching christmas sweaters what the fukc

Clarke feels herself flush, and can’t help but glance up at Bellamy, but his eyes are still focused on the road ahead of them, and he’s softly singing along to the Christmas carols on the radio.

 **Clarke:** Shut up  
For that I’m making you go shopping with me next weekend  
But seriously, this kid won’t stop growing, and it’s making it impossible to choose something to wear in advance, unless it’s sweats with a very elastic elastic band

 **Raven:** With boots and a nice top?

 **Clarke:** Now I’m making you buy me lunch too

 **Raven:** Yeah yeah  
Go make out with your “roommate”  
If only in the hopes that both of you will take those stupid fucking tops off

 **Clarke:** [middle finger emoji]  
I fuckin WON’T

*

The thing is, Clarke knows Bellamy loves her.

They’ve been best friends for too long for her to think otherwise, have been there for each other through various shitty times, break ups and crises, that there’s no way Clarke could doubt it. He loves her, and it’s enough; his friendship has always been and _will_ always be enough. She’d never want to ask him to give her something he doesn’t want to, would never want to risk how important he is to her, and so if they just continued down the path they’re on, continued being best friends, partners in every way but romantically, and raised their child together, she’d be happy.

As long as he’s in her life, Clarke’s good.

But right now, she’s thirty-five weeks pregnant, lying in Bellamy’s bed, with his arm wrapped protectively across her belly, and it’s a little hard not to want _more._

 **Clarke:** [Img attached]                               

 **Raven:** Is this your way of telling me you finally figured your shit out?  
Like, hey, here’s a pic of us in bed after we had sex all last night

 **Clarke:** No  
I couldn’t even have sex all night if I wanted to, I’d get too tired

 **Raven:** Pregnancy sounds awful

 **Clarke:** Not always great, no  
I couldn’t get to sleep last night bc of the storm  
And I still feel like I’m crashing in miller’s room while I’m here  
And I made the mistake of knocking on bellamy’s door and complaining about it  
And he told me to come sleep with him and then proceeded to rub my belly and READ TO ME  
To like, relax me idk  
Anyway I woke up like this

 **Raven:** What the absolute fuck  
You realise this isn’t normal right  
Like normal people don’t behave this way  
Fuck  
I don’t understand your life

 **Clarke:** Neither tbh

 **Raven:** Okay but none of this explains why you’re basically naked

 **Clarke:** I’m wearing pants  
And my top rode up during the night  
I promise I’m still wearing clothes, you just can’t see

 **Raven:** A likely story  
If I could be bothered I would send a gif of “cut the bullshit, and share the damn bed”

 **Clarke:** I’m literally in his bed right now

 **Raven:** The implication is that you’re sharing the bed to GET LAID

 **Clarke:** Whatever  
Stranger things was really good tho wasn’t it

 **Raven:** Don’t change the subject

 **Clarke:** I thought it was the natural progression of the conversation

 **Raven:** It wasn’t, but I’ll let you off the hook  
Still on for today?

 **Clarke:** Definitely  
Pick you up in an hour?

 **Raven:** If it takes longer I’ll assume you couldn’t force yourself to get out of bed

 **Clarke:** [Middle finger emoji]

To be fair, Clarke does give herself another minute before she tries to slip out of bed, and even that is mostly fuelled by her desire to prove Raven wrong. Unfortunately, as she tries to go, Bellamy’s hold on her tightens, and he pulls her back to him. She huffs out a small laugh as he wakes a little, hiding his face in her shoulder.

“Bellamy,” she says, soft so he can get back to sleep once she’s gone, receiving a hum in response. “I need to get up. I’m meeting Raven in an hour.”

“Mm-kay, princess,” he mumbles, still half-asleep, but he loosens his hold enough that Clarke manages to push herself up and out of bed.

She lets herself watch him for a moment, once she’s up, just taking in the sight of him, topless, hair a mess, sleep-rumpled in bed, looking so goddamn good it’s unfair. It’s not an image she’s witnessed in a long while, and it’s a little overwhelming, after sleeping in the same bed as him for the first time since she found out she was pregnant. And it was so _easy_ last night _,_ no awkwardness, both of them so effortlessly comfortable with one another, but she knows how it is: there’s obviously just a lot of left over ease with this kind of domesticity from when they were sleeping together.

“That doesn’t even sound like a real sentence to me,” Raven says, when Clarke shares the theory, and Clarke huffs, hip-checking her friend as they make their way to the less-awful maternity-wear stores. “I’m serious. It’s definitely not a thing. There’s no way I could wake up in bed with Finn and be all — comfortable with it, just because we used to share a bed all the time.”

“But you and Finn didn’t end on great terms.”

“At least we actually _broke up_ ,” she says, pointed. “Not that I’m — Finn was a shitty boyfriend, no doubt, but we actually had a conversation after what happened, spoke about it and ended things. You and Bellamy stopped having sex and haven’t even acknowledged the fact that you were fucking for like, over a year. It’s not like that doesn’t make shit awkward, too.”

“It’s more that we’ve got something else to focus on, I think. Like, having a kid together is a lot to organise, and we’ve mostly just been — getting ready for it, I guess.”

“What you’re describing is avoidance.”

“Probably,” Clarke agrees, before sighing, running a hand over her face. “But just let me have it, okay? I’m trying not to let my subconscious get its hopes up that Bellamy might — you know.” She groans. “Unrequited love fucking _sucks._ ”

Raven chuckles softly, before taking Clarke’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Babe, I know I’ve told you this before, but I swear, if you said something, I’m about 99% sure Bellamy would combust with happiness right on the spot. You may not realise what you two are like from the outside, but _I_ do. And it’s not just the baby, it’s just — how Bellamy is with you. How you are with _each other._ ”

Clarke’s throat goes tight, and she swallows heavily as Raven’s words settle. It’s nothing her friend hasn’t said before, but for some reason it hits harder than usual. Still, she doesn’t want to think about it now, and so she just settles on clearing her throat and moving on.  

“Okay, enough about this, tell me your relationship goss instead. Does Jaha know that Wells is dating you yet, or is that gonna be a fun Christmas surprise as he tries to set him up with someone else?”

Raven snorts a laugh, giving Clarke a knowing look, but thankfully she’s feeling kind enough to talk about her own stuff, and the conversation continues on from there, as they begin looking for clothes that will ideally fit over Clarke’s belly. It’s a long process that involves various shops and a stop for lunch where Clarke curses Bean’s desire to make clothes shopping _literally impossible_ , but eventually they find a dress that works, that actually looks really _nice_.

Raven wolf-whistles, and Clarke bites back a smile as she looks at herself in the mirror.

“Yeah, that’s definitely the one.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow, catching her eye in the mirror. “So now we should find you something similar, but hotter?”

Raven snorts, shaking her head. “Nah, I’ll let you have this one. I’m still holding out for a dress made out of at least four different types of fabric.”

Clarke laughs. “Yeah, that’ll probably look better anyway.” She does her equivalent of flattening down the dress, which is more like feeling up her belly, and grins. “But I still like this one.”

*

“Clarke, if you’re not out in five minutes, I’m naming our kid Chronos.”

Clarke frowns, leaning back from the mirror. It takes her a minute, but she gets there. “The God of Time?” She calls out, smiling fondly when there’s a pause before —

“Yes!”

She rolls her eyes before focusing back in on getting ready. It’s not like she’s even taking that _long_ , but Bellamy hates being late in the best of circumstances, let alone when it’s to her mum’s Christmas party. He’s never really accepted Clarke’s assurance that Abby likes him, and maybe Clarke should tell him about all the unsubtle hints her mum’s been dropping lately, about her and Bellamy just trying being a regular couple, but she’s not sure it’s come to that just yet.

If he’s still worried in a year’s time, she’ll give it a go, but for now, she’s keeping it to herself.

Ten minutes later, she’s done, thankfully with no more hassling from Bellamy about the time. She doesn’t love getting dressed up regularly, but once or twice a year it can be fun, and tonight’s actually looking promising. Bellamy, Raven and Wells will be there as back up, and Clarke’s actually excited to see some specific members of her extended family. Plus, she looks hot. The dress she bought is dark navy and long-sleeved, and it fits snug without being too tight. She’s got tights and boots on, because it’s winter and therefore fucking _freezing_ , and her lips are stained red, with the rest of her makeup simple.

All together, she looks _good,_ and it’s an exceedingly nice feeling whilst very pregnant.

She gives herself another half minute to get all her stuff together before heading out to meet Bellamy, passing the nursery and feeling her heart swell as she sees it mostly set up now, with a crib and a changing table, a bookshelf and a dresser. They’re still putting all the smaller stuff in, still deciding on little pieces of art and which mobile they want to set up, but it feels so good, seeing how it’s come together. But Bellamy would probably be very dramatic it he found her ready, just standing in the nursery doorway, would probably tell her she’s sending him to an early grave, and so she makes herself continue on into the lounge room before he has gets the chance, finding him scrolling through his phone on the couch, dressed nicely in a good pair of navy trousers and a well-fitted blue shirt. His curls are in slightly more order than usual, and his glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, and he looks so handsome that Clarke can tell she’s going to get distracted staring at him tonight.

But at least she’s prepared.

“Are you ready?” She asks, and he snorts a laugh, standing up from the couch.

“I was the one who was trying to hurry _you_ up.”

“And yet here we are,” she says, going to grab her coat, and she looks over her shoulder to shoot Bellamy a teasing grin, only to find that he’s stopped a few feet from her, and is looking at her with an expression she can’t pin.

And no matter how good she was feeling just a minute earlier, she can’t help but feel self conscious as Bellamy looks her up and down, eyes focusing on her belly for a long beat before he meets her gaze. She hasn’t tried being this dressed up whilst pregnant, hasn’t had any reason to, and it’s a little intimidating, now that she’s standing right in front of him.

“Do I look okay?” She asks, after a moment. “Not too — pregnant?”

Bellamy clears his throat before a small smile pulls at his mouth, gentle. “You look very pregnant,” he tells her as he walks up to her, voice a little teasing. One hand unsurprisingly finds her belly, a touch Clarke always appreciates, and his eyes flit over her face as his smile widens. “Very pregnant and very gorgeous,” he continues, soft. “You look great, Clarke.”

She feels herself flush, head ducking down to hide her slightly ridiculous smile, and when she looks up, there’s a glint in his eyes that has Raven’s words echoing in her mind.

“You sure? There’s still time for me to get the sweater you bought.”

“But then I’d have to wear mine, too,” he reminds with a chuckle, bringing his free hand up to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “And I’m sure. You’re beautiful, princess.”

She would say her breath hitches, but she’s not sure she’s been breathing at all since he walked over to her. She doesn’t know how to respond, and silence stretches between them for one beat, and then two, before Bellamy smiles again, something almost _wistful_ about it, before he lets her go and steps back.

“Come on, we better go now if we don’t want to be late.”

Clarke nods, feeling a little like the axis of her world has shifted just _slightly_ , and follows Bellamy out of their little house. He takes her arm as they walk down to his car, since the ground’s a little icy and he’s overly protective, and opens the passenger door for her too, waiting until she’s sitting before he goes to close the door.

She grabs hold of his arm before he has a chance though. “Bellamy?” She says, a little loud and a little quick, needing to come up with something to say before they leave.

“Yeah?”

“You look — you look really beautiful, too,” she says. “I like your shirt.” The words somehow sound even worse aloud than they did the half-second they were in her head, but all he does is snort a laugh, and shake his head with a fond grin.

“Thanks, princess. It means a lot.”

He’s teasing, letting her off the hook, and Clarke smiles a little helplessly, before letting him go. He shuts the door and makes his way to the driver’s side, getting the car in gear and pulling onto the street to make the half hour drive to her mum’s place.

 **Clarke:** You’ve broken me  
Bellamy said I look nice and my brain shut down

 **Raven:** Only nice?  
Poor game, blake

 **Clarke:** Okay, he said beautiful  
But still, my brain shut down and I’m blaming you for breaking me

 **Raven:** I read this text to Wells and he legitimately laughed for like 30 seconds  
“I hope those crazy kids get their shit together”

 **Clarke:** Your mockery is appreciated  
I’ll see you soon

 **Raven:** If you don’t make it I’ll assume you pulled onto the side of the road for a quicky

 **Clarke:** Stop using that line  
Also  
[Middle finger emoji]

They’re still one of the first people to arrive, despite Bellamy’s stressing, but it gives them time to talk to her mum and Marcus properly, for Bellamy to give them the bottle of wine he brought and for Clarke to try and shake off what both his and Raven’s words are doing to her and for Abby to insist on taking photos of them together.

“Your last Christmas before baby is born,” she says, as she snaps one of them in front of the perfectly-decorated Christmas tree, and Clarke feels Bellamy’s hand flex on her hip. It’s pretty amazing to think about: this time next year, they’ll be parents, getting ready for Bean’s first Christmas.

Other guests start pouring in throughout the next hour, until the living room is warm and lively, filled with people drinking and laughing and dancing and talking. Clarke’s pulled into various conversations, and by extension, Bellamy is too, and unsurprisingly a lot of them revolve around the baby. Questions of when it’s due, if they know the gender, whether they’ve landed on a name yet (she tries her hardest not to share an amused look with Bellamy, but when he leans in and whispers _Chronus_ to her _,_ she does have to hide her laughter in his shoulder).

They hang out with Wells and Raven once they arrive — Clarke unsurprisingly getting teased relentlessly when Bellamy goes to grab them champagne — dance together when her favourite Christmas song comes on, and even get roped into playing with some of Clarke’s cousins’ kids, none of which is really helping with how her mind is kind of spinning, how she’s hyper-aware of Bellamy’s every touch, of his every smile.

She makes it through to eleven before she’s tired enough to pull the pregnancy card, and after a long line of goodbyes, she and Bellamy manage to escape. She’s dozed off a little by the time they get home, and when he shakes her shoulder lightly to wake her, she opens her eyes to find him smiling at her fondly.

“Come on, princess, probably better to pass out in bed than sleep all night in the car.”

“If you say so,” Clarke sighs, letting him help her up and keep an arm around her going back into the house. It’s still slippery out. “I might just pass out in bed with my clothes still on, though,” she says sleepily, as they flick the lights on and she shrugs off her coat. “I’m not sure I have the energy to change into my pyjamas.”

“You’ll be uncomfortable,” Bellamy says, and she snorts a soft laugh, sending him a fond smile as she feels them come back to their centre. His returning one is wry. “You know I’m right.”

“I know you’re ridiculous,” she says.

“And yet, you’ll thank me when you don’t wake up in the middle of the night cold and uncomfortable. You hate wearing constricting things at night,” he reminds, and sometimes it is a little annoying how well he knows her, how much he listens when she complains. “Especially with Bean.”

“Fine,” she relents, making sure her voice is a grumble, because she knows he loves when she’s petulant. “But you’re helping me get out of the dress, because it took me like, five tries to get the zipper all the way up, and I’m not putting myself through that again.”

Bellamy chuckles, ducking his head before giving her a fond grin. “Whatever you say,” he says, indulgent. “I’ll lock up first.”

Clarke nods, and goes to start getting ready for bed. She washes her face first, and then brushes her teeth, because she knows that as soon as she’s in her pyjamas she’s likely to just collapse in bed and pass out, but soon enough she’s back in her bedroom, pulling off her boots and tights as Bellamy knocks on her door. He must’ve followed a similar routine, because he’s shirtless, only in his pyjama pants, slung low on his hips, and a little bit of toothpaste is still in the corner of his mouth.

And suddenly Clarke realises that this is a very bad idea.

But she’s asked him for help, and he’s said yes, so she smiles, turns her back to him, and pushes the hair from the nape of her neck.

And it feels so familiar, with it dark outside and in the quiet of night, having Bellamy touch her.

His hand finds the top of her dress, and the rough pad of his thumb runs lightly over her neck, making her shiver, and it’s like a jolt to her system, this heightened awareness of her body, of what Bellamy’s doing to her; what he _always_ does to her.

He brings the zipper of her dress all the way down, the air cool on her now exposed back, and they just stand there like that for a lingering moment, Clarke feeling herself sway backwards slightly, into his warmth.

He lets his hands fall and she turns around, looking at him to find a flush to his cheeks, a flustered and maybe even guilty expression that has her heart beginning to race. He meets her eyes for one long moment before stepping back and turning to leave, but she catches his hand before he can.

And suddenly, it feels so simple.

“Bellamy,” she says, her voice coming out soft, pleading.

He meets her eyes again, but this time his gaze doesn’t waver. It feels like there’s both a question and an answer in there, all at once, and it makes it so easy to step forward, into his space as much as she can with her belly between them, and rise up onto her toes to press her mouth to his.

She remembers the last kiss they shared exactly, at their first ultrasound together. After seeing Bean for the first time, hearing its heartbeat, and feeling overcome with emotion, Clarke had reached out to Bellamy, tilted her head to bring her lips up to his. It was short but sweet, intimate, and like sleeping together, they never acknowledged it, and haven’t done it since.

Now, though, Bellamy melts into her, lets out a soft and familiar sigh as his free hand moves up to her face. He cradles it gently, before tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss, and Clarke lets herself fall into it too, lets her hands slide up into his hair, curl into it and tug a little, just like she knows he loves. Lets herself part his lips with her tongue, kiss him deeper, harder, longer, until she can taste the champagne he’s been drinking, until she needs to tilt her head back to draw in a few shaky breaths.

She makes herself look at him, his eyes dark with lust, but with a glint of something more there, too, something heavy that makes her heart burst. He’s as wrapped around her as he can be, one hand on her side, thumb absently rubbing her belly, and the other now at the base of her neck, keeping her close, and there’s a long moment where they just watch each other, soft and unobtrusive, a warmth building between them, before they’re both moving again, Bellamy dipping as Clarke rises. And it’s quicker this time, him swallowing her whimper with a kiss that’s _desperate,_ that feels like it’s pouring seven months of separation into it. It’s hot and wet in seconds, a perfect combination of tongue and lips and teeth, and it sends a rush through Clarke’s whole body, one she hasn’t felt since the last night they spent together, before she told him she was pregnant.

She presses against his chest, and he pulls back for a moment, smile confused.

“Bedroom,” she murmurs, already leaning back in when he chuckles.

“We’re already in a bedroom,” he points out, but she’s already shaking her head.

“ _Your_ bedroom,” she insists, pushing him again, until he catches up and starts walking them to his room instead. “I don’t like my one,” she says, between more kisses. “It still doesn’t feel like mine. And your bed is more comfortable.”

Bellamy kisses her one more time, laughing a little as he pulls back properly, smile so wide it feels like it could split his face in two. He pulls her into his room and shuts the door, despite them being the only ones here, and unsurprisingly it slows them down.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes moving across her face like he’s trying to memorise her, memorise the moment. “Because I don’t want to move things more than you want, but — fuck, Clarke, you gotta be sure.”

He sounds about as wrecked as she feels, in the best way possible, and Clarke leans up pointedly, claiming his mouth in a slow, loving kiss. When she pulls back, she’s smiling, and Bellamy’s responding one is the best thing she’s ever seen.

“I’m certain,” she says, taking the opportunity to pull her arms free from her dress, tug it down over her baby bump and let it slip onto the floor, leaving her only in her underwear.

And it feels a little like being _in_ the dress again, the way his gaze shifts, moving down her body and once again lingering at her belly. He’s seen her in various states of undress, of course, and is very familiar with her bare baby bump, but it’s different from being this exposed to him when they were sleeping together, different from laying on the couch with her top up so he can have some baby time. It somehow feels more intimate, puts Clarke in a more vulnerable state than she’s used to being in front of him. But Bellamy’s eyes find hers again, and when he smiles, she’s not sure she’s ever seem him so filled to the brim with happiness.

“God, you look good,” he says, something like awe in his voice, and Clarke chokes out a slightly watery laugh. It’s all a little overwhelming, despite how much she wants this, despite how _good_ he’s being. “I don’t want you to think, pregnancy’s like — a kink for me, or something. But _fuck,_ Clarke, it’s been so hard to keep my hands off of you these past few months. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

This laugh comes out stronger, and she steps forward to slide her hands up Bellamy’s chest and to his shoulders, his skin warm under her touch, as she leans up again to kiss him again, long and deep and perfect.

“Better start making up for lost time, then.”

And he does, kissing her until she melts right back into him, walking her back to his bed like he used to, helping her settle onto it gently, so achingly careful with her.

And it’s both familiar and new, being in bed with him again. A combination of ease from their past experience with each other, and working things out around her belly, but of course they figure it out, until it’s comfortable, until it’s _good,_ until Bellamy starts mouthing at her jaw, starts dropping kisses down her neck and onto her chest, until he’s unclasping her bra and sucking a nipple into his mouth, careful because of course he remembers she might be sensitive.

He learns her new body slowly, indulgently, touch reverent and mouth achingly loving, shuffling down and leaving kisses until he’s back right between her thighs, parting her slowly and licking into her, driving her crazy with his talented tongue and fingers. She comes twice with him settled in the cradle of her thighs, fingers curled tight into his hair as he brings her over the edge, and when he kisses his way back up to her, he’s unsurprised that she catches his mouth in a desperate kiss, licking her taste off of his tongue like she used to.

And still, after that, it’s easy. She’s done her research on getting off by herself whilst pregnant, just to be safe, and reading about sex was a natural progression to that, so it’s not hard, telling Bellamy which positions are best for them, and it still takes some getting used to, of course, still re-learning each other, but it’s still just so _good_.

And when he spoons her from behind, mouth on her neck as he presses into her, it’s _perfect_. Shallow thrusts that have her arching into him, that have her skin alight with pleasure and need and happiness, his fingers at the apex of her thighs to bring her up one last time. She tilts her head back before she comes, finding his mouth in a hot, desperate kiss, and he follows as she clenches around him.

They’re both panting by the end of it, and after Bellamy pulls out Clarke gets up the energy to turn over and face him.

His hand finds her belly, moving over it gently, and she smiles.

“I’ve missed that.”

Bellamy chuckles, ducking his head with a rueful smile. “Yeah, I’m not sure why we stopped.”

“Because we’re idiots,” Clarke says, but she feels like she could burst with happiness, and when Bellamy finds her hand, slips his fingers between hers, that feeling doubles.

“I, um — I was planning on saying something before you got pregnant,” he says, voice low and a little rough. “But it felt like too much, once you told me. I mean, fuck, I was having enough trouble trying to ask my best friend if she wanted to date, let alone my best friend whom I’d just gotten _pregnant_ to date.” Clarke laughs softly, and Bellamy’s responding smile is a little helpless. “Miller called me an idiot about fifty times. I’m pretty sure he moved out just so I had an excuse to ask you to move in. But, yeah—” He clears his throat, takes a breath before he continues. “I just wanted to say, it’s not just because you’re pregnant, and that we’re having this baby together. I love Bean, too, don’t get me wrong, but I fell for you before that. I love you. Just you.”

And it’s impossible not to lean in and kiss him again, impossible not to feel overwhelmed with how much she loves him.

“Yeah,” she says, and it’s incredible how easy it feels now, after months of worrying. “I love you, too. Just you. But I am really glad to be having this bean with you.”

“Little Poseidon?”

Clarke grins, can’t help but break into a small fit of giggles. “We can discuss it in the morning.”

Bellamy grins too, wraps him arm around her and pulls her in close. “Sounds perfect.”

*

 **Clarke:** [Img attached]

 **Raven:** Do I want an explanation?

 **Clarke:** Say what you said last time

 **Raven:** God you’re needy, gimme a sec  
Is this your way of telling me you finally figured your shit out?  
Like, hey, here’s a pic of us in bed after we had sex all last night  
I’ve copied that word for word btw

 **Clarke:** Proud of you  
And yeah, it is

 **Raven:** Congrats on the sex  
And I’m glad you figured this all out before bean is born  
Bc really, that would’ve been a clusterfuck

 **Clarke:** Probably  
But I’m glad I won’t have to find out

 **Raven:** Wow pregnancy has made you sappy

 **Clarke:** It’s true  
[Img attached]

 **Raven:** Jesus, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Bellamy smile so hard  
Now stop texting me and go make out with your boyfriend

 **Clarke:** Yeah, good plan

She puts her phone down, places her hand on top of Bellamy’s, where it’s unsurprisingly rubbing over her belly. Bean is already up and active, and he presses down on where their little foot is poking out, just saying hello.

“I think Bean knows,” Bellamy murmurs, and Clarke laughs softly, shifting to look at him properly, take in his happy, sleepy grin. She’s pretty sure she’s never seen anything better, and she can’t help but lean in to give him a sweet kiss.

Bean shifts, and Clarke pulls back to laugh.

“Yeah, feels like it,” she agrees. “Maybe just knows I’m happy.”

Bellamy swallows. “Yeah?”

“Stupidly so,” Clarke says, a little helplessly, and his grin widens, slow and perfect. “Best Christmas ever, definitely.”

“I don’t know,” Bellamy says, pulling her back close, lips finding her jaw, leaving a trail of soft kisses. “I reckon the next few will give this one a run for its money.”

(And on Julia’s first Christmas, Clarke can’t help but agree.

Her husband is a smart man.)

**Author's Note:**

> Ye, they got married within a year of properly getting together, but it's only bc they wasted so much time saying they weren't a couple when they basically were!!!!!!!!! Plus it's safe to assume that once their baby was born bellamy lost all chill and one day just blurted out his proposal when clarke was playing w julia. 
> 
> Hope u liked!!! Comments/kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Happy holidays y'all.


End file.
